


The White Moose

by starrylizard



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Crack, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-20
Updated: 2009-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-26 14:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrylizard/pseuds/starrylizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam and Dean decide to check out a higher than usual road toll on a seemingly good stretch of highway, they find a slightly hysterical road accident victim and a very mad-looking, ghostly, white moose. It's going to be a long night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a joke for Mistojen after a conversation involving moose and kangaroos and which of the two makes more mess when it hits a car. Yes, Jen is so totally a Mary-Sue, but she's also my own creation as I don't know Jen in real life. It's not the best written piece of fiction, but it cracked us up at the time, so hopefully others can get a giggle from it too. Also thanks to Rinne for taking the time to beta read this for continuity.

Jen yawned, wishing she'd managed to get a little more sleep the previous night. She swiped her hand across her face and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, staring at the seemingly endless piece of blacktop that stretched before her headlights. Thank goodness for strong coffee and the Linkin Park music blaring out her car sound system, because they were the only things keeping her awake.

The crackle and static of feedback suddenly blared through the car and Jen frowned, looking down at the CD player and giving it a tap. She looked back up just in time to see the moose, but without any time to do anything about it. "Holy shit!" She got a glimpse of sleek white pelt, red eyes and huge antlers, before she swerved, felt something hit the car, and then she was headed for a tree.

Jen groaned, opening her eyes to see leaves and branches in the car headlights. The engine was still rumbling gently and she reached down to turn it off. Unsnapping her seatbelt, she pushed the door open with a loud creak, and stumbled out of the car. Apart from the tree making a large dent in the front fender, it would seem the car wasn't so damaged. Maybe it would be salvageable? Not that her dad wouldn't take the opportunity to tell her how he'd told her she should buy a bigger car.

She'd managed to drive off the highway and into a ditch and it was obvious there was no way to get the car out without help. She snapped open her cell phone and let go some choice expletives – no signal. So, Jen pulled out her handbag and jacket, clutching at her ribs where the seatbelt had dug in (and, from the feel of it, probably left a damn ugly bruise) and started making her slow way back to the road. Maybe someone would be kind enough to give her a ride. Maybe?

Jen caught the moose out of the corner of her eye – the same big, white moose that should most definitely be smooshed all over her car, but was instead snorting as it pawed the ground. The moose lowered its head and pounded toward her. Jen let loose a terrified yell and began to run.

Somewhere on a highway just outside of Indiana, a black Chevy Impala positively purred as it ate up the mileage. Dean was making random humming noises and drumming the steering wheel to the beat of The Blue Oyster Cult, while Sam half-dozed in the passenger seat.

"Hey, Sam. Check the map, would you? I think we should be coming up on that accident black spot soon." Dean turned down the stereo just enough so that they didn't have to yell to hear each other.

Sam stretched, cracking his neck and looking bored as he snapped on the flashlight to study the map. "Yep. Pretty much anywhere along the next ten mile stretch of completely straight, well-maintained road." He sighed, snapped the flashlight off and yawned loudly before straightening up to watch the road.

Then the stereo turned to white noise and Sam's eyes widened as a woman ran across the road, screaming for help and followed closely by an opaque and very mad-looking white moose.

Sam blinked rapidly. "Dean, did you just see a ...?"

Dean pulled the Impala to a violent stop by the side of the road and reached back for another flashlight and a shotgun. "A white moose chasing a screaming, dark-haired chick?"

"Yeah." Sam reached for his own weapon and they slammed the car doors in tandem. "Thought maybe I was still asleep."

"Follow that moose!" Dean yelled, as they set off into the forest at a run.

"Where'd they go?" Dean stopped in his tracks and turned around slowly, lighting the surrounding forest with his flashlight. Sam followed suit.

"Heeeeeeeelp! Moooose! Aaaaaaaah!"

Both guys spun about to face the direction of the yelling and set off again at a run. They dodged tree branches and roots as they ran, finding themselves angling back toward the highway, before finally landing back on solid road.

The girl was there, now silent with fear as she stood her ground, obviously too exhausted to keep running. The moose snorted and pawed the ground, before lowering its head and charging towards her. The report of a shotgun filled the air and the moose vanished, its moosey spirit dispersed by the rock salt. Dean lowered his shotgun slowly.

"Seriously, what the hell, dude?" Dean's voice was rough from the running, but the comment was lost on Sam anyway.

The girl was bent over with her hands on her thighs as she heaved deep breaths. She looked pretty wobbly and Sam strode to her side and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. This close to her, he could hear her mumbling under her breath.

"Goddamn moose. What the hell? A freakin' moose," she grumbled, and Sam let out a chuckle.

His gentle laughter caused her to flinch and look up in a way that his touch hadn't. Her gaze was frightened.

"Hey, you're safe now. It's gone at least for the moment. You'll be all right." Sam squeezed her shoulder again.

"Thank you. I… Thank you!" She straightened up and latched onto Sam, pressing her face into his shirt as he wrapped an arm around her waist and self-consciously consoled her.

Over her head, Sam watched Dean as he made kissy faces, smirking happily at Sam's obvious discomfort and Sam glared back. Dean shook his head and grinned even harder, as he started to make his way toward them.

"Hey, Sammy. You want to introduce me to your new friend?"

Jen felt relieved tears well up and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to let them fall. Her face was pressed against a warm shirt, the calming smells of sweat and soap grounding her for a moment, before she realized what she was doing.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry." Jen pulled back and released the clingy hold she had on some poor guy she didn't even know; some guy that just helped save her life and now had a wet spot on his shirt from her tears. She settled for hugging her sore ribs with one arm and held the other hand out to Sam. "I'm Jen," she stated simply.

"Hey, don't worry about it." Sam grinned, shaking the proffered hand. "I'm Sam and that's my brother, Dean."

Dean nodded, a mischievous smirk on his face, as he asked, "Don't I get a thank you hug as well?"

Jen stared at Dean for a moment, as if trying to decide if he was joking, but Dean laughed and gently shook his head. "So how did you end up out here being chased by a moose, Jen?"

Jen shrugged and laughed nervously. "When you say it like that, it almost doesn't sound so weird. The short version is: I was driving, the moose came out of nowhere and I swerved. My poor car's further down the road in a ditch. Hit a tree, so I'll probably need a tow. Damn thing just appeared again and well, you know the rest." She shrugged again. "Your gun must've scared it off, I guess. Biggest damn moose I ever saw and those red eyes…"

This time, she shuddered, unconsciously shifting closer to Sam and he put an arm around her shoulders.

"Okay, well let's walk back to our car. It's not too far and we can give you a ride into the nearest town." Dean strode on ahead without waiting for an answer.

Jen nodded. "I'd appreciate that." She shifted closer into Sam's warmth as they began to walk. "Um, only thing is, could we stop at my car? I must've dropped my purse when the moose jumped me. I can't really do anything without it."

"Girls and their purses," Dean grumbled up ahead, before turning to walk backwards. "Sure thing, Jen. Not a problem."

Sam huffed slightly and he probably would have commented, but for the Impala coming into view.

"Your car?" Jen asked. "Nice!"

Dean beamed, and suddenly he was opening the back door and waving Jen in as if she was a Princess.

"Over there!" Jen leaned between the front seats and pointed off the road. The only sign a car was there was the set of burnt rubber tracks that were highlighted by the headlights.

The Impala rumbled to a halt and all three stepped out, doors creaking shut behind them. Dean and Sam raised their flashlights, highlighting Jen's car where it was firmly wedged against a tree a short way down a ditch.

"So where did you drop your purse?" Dean scanned the ground before them as he started to walk.

"Just near the car. The moose came from over there and I ran toward the road." Jen laughed self-consciously. "Moose, dear lord, I still can't believe this." She followed Dean as he moved toward the car, still scanning the ground for the missing purse.

Sam, following behind, looked up and stopped in his tracks. "Hey guys, what's that?"

"What's what, Sammy?" came Dean's uninterested reply.

"There's a light." With the flashlights all aimed down toward the ground, a faint light could be seen through the trees and Sam started walking towards it. "Let's check it out."

Dean looked up at that, spotting the light for himself. "Hey, wait up, Sam," he called, turning to follow his brother. He grabbed Jen loosely by the wrist, pulling her along behind him. "Stay close to me, okay?"

Jen furrowed her brow and nodded, allowing herself to be pulled along. She wasn't sure she wanted to be moving toward random lights in a forest inhabited by a crazy white moose, but she wasn't about to be left alone in one either.

Sam pushed past branches, quickly moving toward the light until a small hunting shack came into view. The light resolved itself into a warm glow that came from the only visible window. He came to a stop at the edge of the tree line and waited for Dean and Jen to catch up, but when they did Sam didn't turn around. He raised his hand in a signal for silence and continued to stare at something else that had his undivided attention – a ghostly white moose.

The moose pawed the ground, snorting loudly as it trotted in a line, back and forth in front of the shack door. It lowered its head and butted at the air, only to be repelled by an invisible force. It went back to pacing again.

Jen took an unsteady breath as she caught sight of the moose and she tugged at Dean's jacket and gave him a meaningful look. No way did she want to be here if that thing was around. Forget the purse, it wasn't worth life and limb. Dean just gave her a lazy smile and a placed a finger to his lips in a gesture to stay quiet. It was only then, with her attention now drawn away from the moose, that she noticed the brothers seemed to be having a silent conversation of their own – one that was built upon meaningful looks, shrugs, hand signals and facial expressions.

Jen watched, fascinated, as Dean waggled his eyebrows in the direction of the moose and lifted his shotgun. Sam pointed to the window and indicated his own height with a sweeping hand gesture. Dean silently acknowledged his brother's height advantage with a scowl and then mouthed the word "freak!" with a smirk. Sam made a bitch-face and then indicated Jen with a head tilt toward her, a frown and then a wave in the general direction of the car, before widening his eyes in question. Dean frowned and shook his head, pointing at Sam who rolled his eyes and sighed and then before Sam had a chance to argue any further Dean moved off and disappeared into the trees, circling around behind them.

"Here, moosey, moosey moosey!" Dean's voice came from around the other side of the shack and, as Jen and Sam watched, the moose's ears twitched and it looked up, snorting and pawing the ground, before it trotted toward the voice.

"Wait here," Sam whispered to Jen and he moved forward quickly and quietly, keeping himself low as he angled toward the window.

When he reached it, Sam straightened up and peered into the shack. The window afforded a good view of the main room and he could see that the warm light was coming from several oil lamps that hung around the room. There were two over-stuffed arm chairs surrounding the remains of a small fire in the hearth, but it seemed that whoever lived in the shack was either already asleep or had gone out. What caught Sam's eye though, was sitting apart from the fireplace. Tucked right into the corner of the room, where it was hidden by shadows, sat a low table. Several candles and a silver bowl sat upon it, along with other bits and pieces that he couldn't identify – but could probably guess what they were with fair accuracy – and above the table hung a large set of moose antlers.

"Gotcha!" Sam whispered.

The sound of a shotgun firing filled the air and suddenly there was a flurry of movement inside. A short, scruffy man emerged and hurriedly pulled on a jacket before storming outside, muttering something about "idiot hunters." Sam stilled and flattened against the wall, but the man didn't even look his way.

Sam watched the man until he was out of sight and then made his way to the door. Slipping a pick from his back pocket, he made quick work of the lock. A gentle push and the door opened. Sam peered inside carefully before taking a step. He heard a familiar crunch as he moved and he gently lifted his foot and stepped over the thick line of salt that ringed the room, careful not to disturb it any further.

"Sam? Sam, what are you doing?" Jen came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. "Did you just pick the lock?"

"The guy must have left it unlocked," Sam lied easily. "Just stay close and don't touch anything."

"But what are you doing?"

"We're getting rid of the moose."

"What?"

Sam sighed. "It's a ghost, Jen. A spirit. And from the looks of it, that altar is the reason the moose's spirit is back. Looks like somebody has been busy playing with summoning rituals." He moved inside, waving Jen in behind him before closing the door.

Jen gave Sam a worried look, but carefully stepped inside, as Sam directed.

"Look, Sam. I don't mean to burst your bubble here, but there's no such thing as ghosts. I was chased by a moose – a weird moose, maybe an albino or something, but a moose. I really appreciate you rescuing me and all, but can we go now?"

Sam ignored Jen's protests, moving instead to the altar in the corner and lighting it up with his flashlight. There were traces of blood in the bowl, along with several blood-stained white hairs. Next to the bowl was some sort of ceremonial knife and a small stack of papers. Sam shifted the knife and let the flashlight play over the papers. What was written there made him groan and swipe a hand across his face tiredly. Intrigued, Jen moved so that she could read over his shoulder.

The first printout was from the website and was titled: _**Summoning Spirits for Dummies**_ _._

 _Enochian invocations and summoning rituals are the most usual method of spiritual necromancy. This step-by-step guide will explain the basic tools that the necromancer needs to conjure a spirit back into the mortal realm – from talismans and correct Enochian pronunciations to conjuration rights and the importance of maintaining proper salt circles._

Sam groaned again, occasionally stopping to smack himself in the forehead as he flipped through the rest of the guide's pages. "It really is a how-to guide. That's just so irresponsible!"

He paused on a print out of an IM conversation. Jen reached across to stop Sam's hand as it began its arc back toward his face once more and she began to skim-read the page for herself.

 _MooseUprising: good morning_

 _MagicMark: Hey!_

 _MooseUprising: i've been reading your guide, but i was wondering if i need to change anything to use it for conjuring animal spirits_

 _MooseUprising: you know instead of human ones?_

 _MagicMark: Good question, Moose! :)_

 _MagicMark: It should still work for animal conjuration, provided u have the bones and blood/hair from the animal. Animal spirits don't often remain in our realm tho and are often pretty pissed when re-animated, so u better be careful._

 _MooseUprising: *nods*_

 _MagicMark: Pay close attention to the sections on salt lines and be very sure your talisman is safe at all times. You don't want to lose control of a pissed off spirit._

 _MooseUprising: shall do._

 _MagicMark: Hey did you catch the game on Friday, Moose?_

 _MooseUprising: yeah, good 1 huh…_

"What the hell is going on here, Sam?" Jen blinked, scanning the page again.

Sam turned to face Jen and she realized she was still holding his arm and slowly released it. His big green eyes were completely sincere when he stared into hers.

"I'm not totally sure why, but some guy conjured a moose," he said.

Jen opened her mouth to protest this completely illogical argument again when the door suddenly burst open and the man who they'd watch leave the shack earlier strode inside. Sam automatically moved in front of Jen and assumed a loose fighting stance, but it was apparently unnecessary. The stranger had his hands laced behind his head and was followed closely by Dean with a shotgun.

"Hey, Sam, Jen. Miss me?"


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey, Sam, Jen. Miss me?”

“Dean. Found a friend, I see.” Sam raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, George here didn’t like my shotgun. Strangest thing, he tried to set a moose spirit on me.” Dean made a tut-tut sound and watched George as he shuffled his feet nervously.

Sam turned to George as well. “Raising a spirit from the dead, getting it to do your bidding – kill for you. That’s playing with fire. Care to explain, George, or should we just take that pretty talisman of your, smash it into little pieces and then throw you out of this shack?”

“No nonononono! Please don’t do that. I never really thought it would work, ye know? I was just so angry. Do you know how long I campaigned for that moose? It was a white moose, the first of its kind, never seen before and so beautiful. And I made them see. I made them declare it off limits to the hunters. They made it law. No one could harm him. He was saved!”

The little man’s voice was getting higher as he became more worked up. He’d brought his hands down from his head and was gesturing wildly, pointing out the various campaign brochures and posters about the shack, all declaring ‘save the white moose.’

“Then the stupid animal walked out in front of a car. Just as they declared him safe and off limits to those bastards, it just walked out in front of a car. It made a fool of me.”

“So you resurrected it?” Sam’s expression was one of pained disbelief.

George nodded vigorously. “Well, like I said, I didn’t think it’d really work.”

“You are fucking kidding me?! You resurrected a moose because you saved its life and then it walked out onto the road and…” Dean couldn’t finish the sentence, as he practically doubled over with laughter, only just managing to keep the shotgun trained on George. “…and then you…”

“It’s not funny!” The little man stamped his foot and scowled, causing Dean to laugh even harder. Jen let out a giggle that she tried to stifle and Sam huffed a laugh, before covering it with a cough.

“It really isn’t funny and I didn’t kill anyone. Really! I swear!”

“What do you mean? You sent it running out into the road, sent it chasing me around the forest. If these guys hadn’t shown up…” Jen let the sentence dangle and settled for glaring at George, as Sam placed a calming hand on her shoulder.

“No, I can’t control it. I can make it come to me,” George shook the talisman to emphasise his point, “but I can’t make it do anything. It just keeps wandering out onto the road like the big, stupid moose it obviously is. I can’t believe I wasted so much time protecting it!”

George huffed out a breath and slouched over to one of the nearby couches where he promptly slumped down onto the armrest and studied the floor. Sam, Dean and Jen stared at him in stunned silence.

“So, out in the woods, with the summoning and the threatening, that was just for show?” Dean had long since lowered the shotgun, realizing George didn’t pose any real threat.

George nodded.

“So, what were you planning on making it do, exactly… if you’d been able to get it to _do_ something?” Jen seemed to have surprised herself by speaking and shuffled a little in place. She kept staring at George, even as his own eyes were still cast down at the floor.

“I… I was just going to use it to scare off the local hunters. You know legendary spooky moose... or something.” He shrugged again.

“You know, I don’t think he summoned the moose.” Sam seemed as though his mind was rapidly processing something as he spoke. Dean swiped a tired hand over his face and stared at his brother.

“I mean, the moose seems to be stuck in a loop, perhaps even reenacting his death. That’s the sort of stupid thing human ghosts do all the time. Maybe the moose’s spirit never left. If that was the case, then when George here tried to summon it, the ritual would have bound the spirit to his talisman and so the moose has to come to him. But, since he didn’t use the correct summoning ritual for a spirit already on this plane, it wouldn’t give him control of the spirit.”

“That’s great geek-boy, but it doesn’t really matter what the moose is doing here or who brought it, we just have to send it on its way. Either way, it’s a simple salt and burn, right?”

“Yeah. I guess so.” Sam tilted his head in agreement with his brother. “George, where’d you bury the moose?”

***

It turned out George had held a small funeral for the moose and buried him six feet under, with a grave marker and everything. Dean had huffed about all the digging that a crazy PETA-card-carrying member was causing them, but Sam pointed out that at least other animals hadn’t dragged away the bones like they would for any other road-kill. And, with that lovely thought in mind, they’d set about digging.

George stood to one side, several meters away. It seemed the moose wasn’t all that interested in any of them as long as George and his talisman were around. The moose just paced around, watching George as if mesmerized, but they all felt easier with the ghost moose and its big red eyes standing well away from them. Jen nervously eyed off the moose while she held the flashlight for Sam to see what he was doing and Dean stood guard with the shotgun, just in case Moosey changed its mind.

“Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah, Dean?”

“What has four legs and flies?”

“I don’t know, Dean.” Sam grunted and another shovel-load of dirt was tossed from the moose grave. “Insects have six legs.”

“A Moose-quito!”

A resigned groan came from the hole, as Jen snorted a surprised laugh.

“Don’t encourage him, he’ll only keep going,” Sam huffed, but he couldn’t completely hide the amusement that crept into his voice. “Tell me again why I have to dig?”

“Because I’m older.”

“That doesn’t work anymore, Dean.”

“And yet you’re still digging.” Dean smirked, turning to Jen. “Knock! Knock!”

“Who's there?” chimed Jen.

“Moose.”

“Moose who?”

“Moose be time for another joke.”

This time both Sam and Jen groaned, but this didn’t deter Dean at all.

“What do you call a sleeping male moose?”

Jen stared at Dean and Sam snickered. “Told you not to encourage him.”

“Aww, come on. Hey, George? What do you call a sleeping male moose?”

George thought for a moment and then turned to face them, yelling back over to Dean, “A bull-dozer!”

“Damn.”

“Never ask a moose-activist a moose joke. We’ve heard them all,” George said.

Jen laughed out loud when she saw Dean's pout.

***

By the time Sam dropped the match down into the grave, setting the fuel-soaked bones alight, both he and Dean were covered in dirt from digging (Sam having forced his brother to do some of the work after his wisecracks about it) and everyone was tired.

Everyone was tired but the moose, and he obviously wasn’t quite ready to trot into the light. As the bones burned bright with accelerant, a cold flame licked over the large white body, making it appear a more blinding white and more transparent at the same time. But when the flame died down, the moose was still there. It snorted, shook its antler-laden head about and literally pranced back into the forest.

“What the hell, dude?” Dean threw an accusing glare at Sam.

Sam raised his eyebrows and glared back at Dean. “Well, obviously there’s still something keeping it here, Dean.”

“Like?” Dean looked at Sam.

Sam looked at George. George clutched his talisman, eyes wide as Dean’s gaze turned to George too.

“His talisman. You said it had blood in it and tied the moose to our plane, right?” It was Jen who spoke.

All eyes turned to Jen, obviously having forgotten that she was there.

“What?” Jen stood her ground, hands on hips.

“No, you’re right.” Sam spoke as everyone’s attention moved back to George and George started edging backward away from his audience.

Dean noted Sam had that thoughtful, almost constipated look that usually came before a geek moment and sure enough… “You know, in many Native Indian traditions, moose are considered to be gentle and wise spirit guides. Some even say that the moose is the animal that guides people safely between the spiritual and living worlds during a dream quest.”

“What are you getting at, Sam?” Dean asked.

“Well, maybe the moose is here not because _of_ George, but _for_ George. It might have come back to help him somehow. Maybe the talisman and the spells had nothing to do with it. He did spend several years protecting it after all.”

“That’s a hell of a lot of maybe, dude. It’s a ghost; they aren’t usually all that friendly.”

“Yeah, but it hasn’t really acted unfriendly. Except for that little act it had going on the highway, it doesn’t seem to be trying very hard to hurt anyone. Maybe it was all a sort of cry for help. And George did go and try to bind its spirit.”

“A cry for help?” Dean looked at Sam again, confusion on his face, before turning back to George. “Can’t hurt to try. Hand over the talisman, George.”

“No way. The guide says that if I take this off, the spirit will kill me.” George backed up further again, only to find his back up against a tree trunk.

“We’ll put you in a salt circle then,” Sam said as he started walking toward George.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got you covered.” Dean cocked the shotgun and gave a sly grin, following his brother’s lead. George started edging around the tree.

As Jen watched from the sidelines, she wondered where this was all going and when her life would return to some semblance of reality.

There was a scuffle, Sam and Dean gaining the upper hand so easily that you had to feel kind of sorry for George. Pretty soon, the man was sulking dejectedly inside a salt circle, his beloved talisman crushed and burned in the same manner as the moose bones had been earlier.

And the moose reappeared, casually trotting toward George and his salt circle. The squat little man looked terrified for a moment and then his expression slowly changed. The suddenly very calm man smiled and stepped toward the moose, hand out-stretched before him and, before Sam and Dean could move to pull him back, George was touching the spirit’s nose, gently patting as if the beast was truly solid and alive.

There was a blinding bright light, growing ever brighter as it enveloped moose and man and forced the others to look away. And when the light receded, three sets of eyes blinking into the first rays of sunlight creeping into the forest, George was laid out on the forest floor and the moose was gone.

Sam, Jen and Dean were quickly by the fallen man’s side, shaking him gently. George moaned and opened his eyes, before smiling up at them.

“I know what I have to do,” he mumbled, a goofy, punch-drunk grin spreading across his face.

“Uh-huh, and that would be…?” Dean dead-panned.

“Save the normal brown moose. He told me to protect the rest of the moose, like I tried to protect him.”

“Uh-huh. Great idea, George. Protect the freaking brown moose, man.” Dean leaned a hand down and pulled the little man to his feet, slapping him on the back once he was up. “Just do me a favour and don’t resurrect any more dead ones, okay?”

They watched George make his way back to the cottage, weaving like a drunk man and mumbling possible moose-saving slogans as he went, quietly ranting to the sky.

Finally Sam picked up the shovel and placed a hand on Jen’s shoulder. “Come on, we could all use a good night’s sleep, let’s head into town.”

Jen nodded, shaking her head in utter disbelief as they walked back to the Impala. “One hell of a night,” she muttered.

***

THE END!!


End file.
